LeighMo's bit of heaven (or hell)

I just read a story. Usually I can read the news without it wrenching my gut; thats why I read it, and not watch it. There have been so many stories lately, of people doing horrid things to their children, and I have yet to slight over one. I feel compelled to read them, why I do not know. Most make me sad, and slightly nauseous, but this last one just....ugh.

It doesn't go into details, really, thank God, but I think it is the imiplications behind it, and the complete and utter lack of respect for these children's lives on the part of their 'parent' that make me so upset. Upset isn't a good word....I could go be ill right now. I'm not much of a censor, but read with caution if things of this nature disturb you.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7642774.stm

Now I have to go snuggle with my kids for a minute each, because I'm blessed to have them and appreciate the gifts their lives bring me.

I have a job interview, Tuesday, for a position doing 'tech assisting' with the Big Rapids Public Schools. I have no clue exactly what the job entails; I think it will be mostly hooking up peripherals, trouble shooting hardware, and running/scheduling disk clean ups and defrags. Its funny, I got the interview because I wrote a cover letter explaining how I am really good at figuring out what I did to make something not work, that by default I am qualified for the position because I used to break so many things. The gentleman with whom I spoke said he found the letter interesting and wants to meet with me in person. So, the ratio of resumes to call backs is approximately 43/1.

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I am almost all set with DeVry to start next month. We've been having fax issues for the last ten days, so what should have taken one afternoon has taken about two weeks. They are patient, though, and my advisor and I are now sharing inside jokes and exchanging chicken recipes.

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My children continue to make me want to beat my head against a wall. I can't decide if son the elder is intelligent, but lazy, or really has no clue. It worries me a bit, because he is genetically predisposed to being a male who needs to be told every step to take, or he'll just stand there with no clue how to live. I'd really rather he not be that way. Son the middle is the love of his teacher's life, at least between the hours of 8 am and 3pm. She says he has one of the best personalities and senses of humor she's ever seen in a child in her AI classes, and this is her fourth or fifth year teaching that label specifically. The daughter is doing well, too, in school; at home, though, she is getting too big for her britches and seems to have this rather strange fixation with her brother. I suppose part of it is normal, they are at the ages where they notice differences in each other, and I don't want to stigmatize either of them, but seriously....short of forcing son the elder to lock the door when he goes in the bathroom for anything, she just will not stay more than six inches away from him.

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That little poemy thing over yonder------> is being published. Funny, I don't care if the rest of the world reads it, but I want to throw up a little when I think about the person for whom it was written reading it. Strange.

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I've decided I am taking a break from the active pursuit of the male variety. I'm tired of games, tired of creating bonds with people that will most likely be severed, for a range of reasons. Not that I've been searching that much, i usually just come across people that spark my interest and then decide that come hell or high water, they will be mine. But I'm tired. I think anymore, people in Michigan are, in one way or another, leading a sort of new-age nomadic existence, and since its not clear whether or not the state will ever rebound, putting down roots and tying one's self to another person is sort of asking for trouble. Even I can feel the transient vibe, in myself and pretty much all new people I meet, and i think that holds us back a lot.

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I did make a new friend, of sorts. He calls me a 'hyper sensitive'. In other words, I pick up on the nature of others very well. I have had about three conversations with him, and we both may as well have gone to elementary school together, we are a lot alike and understand each other well, and he is a single father with sole custody of a five year old girl. I entertained a possible romantic connection for about six minutes, but have placed him in the 'awesome dude and great friend' category. Mostly due to the transient thing; he wants to leave as soon as he gets a job in TN.

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The trees are changing, those deciduous beauteous season predictors. They aren't quite as colorful as they should be, but we haven't much in the way of rain lately. As much as I despise winter, and the trappings it brings, I can not think of anywhere else I would rather be during October. The colors, the cool days, followed by random warm ones, the smell of leaves being crunched and the occaisonal fireplace being lit are representations. I am heading out for a mini solo trip this weekend, to see the vestiges of the maples, watch the oaks take on a different shade. Pics at the myspace, most likely by Monday, if you are interested!

I love politics. I abhor most politicians, but I do so love to follow their rhetoric, point out the hypocrisies and flaws in their logic. Occasionally, I even find one behind whom I can rally, such as he who should have been president, Senators Gore and Kerry (gawd, I loved Kerry.)

I think what draws me to it is the potential power within them to aid 'the people', make life better for the masses. With their pen, they can change lives. With a swish of the wrist, they can put ideas into play. Sometimes, they are the guiding force in life.

Why is it, then, that politicians seldom do what is in the best interest of the people? There is a sort of discrepancy when it comes to the term 'leadership by representation'. Some say a representative should act in accordance with the wishes of those he or she literally represents; other say he or she has the final say in matters on behalf of constituents, regardless of what they actually want. Perhaps if that definition was finalized once and for all, we might get somewhere.

I have kept myself out of the political hoopla this year. I just can't take it again. So depressed was I in '04, I literally sat on my couch bawling sporadically when I would remember that the idiot in chief would not be vacating in '05. I have not watched a speech during the last four years. I get heartburn, see, and hurl things at the TV.

Because I have stayed relatively objective this year, I found this email quite entertaining. By the end of it I was almost in tears, because whomever wrote it did a damned fine job of getting the best one liners and general tone dead on for each of those it parodies. I hope at the least it makes you chuckle, and remember that there are still people out there who can remain objective and have a sense of humor at the same time.

WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD?


> BARACK OBAMA:
> The chicken crossed the road because it was time for a
> CHANGE! The chicken wanted CHANGE!
>
> JOHN McCAIN:
> My friends, that chicken crossed the road because he
> recognized the need to engage in operation and dialogue with
> all the chickens on the other side of the road.
>
> HILLARY CLINTON:
> When I was First Lady, I personally helped that little
> chicken to cross the road. This experience makes me uniquely
> qualified to ensure -- right from Day One! -- that every
> chicken in this country gets the chance it deserves to cross
> the road. But then, this really isn't about me.......
>
> DR. PHIL:
> The problem we have here is that this chicken won't
> realize that he must first deal with the problem on
> 'THIS' side of the road before it goes after the
> problem on the 'OTHER SIDE' of the road. What we
> need to do is help him realize how stupid he's acting by
> not taking on his 'CURRENT' problems before adding
> 'NEW' problems.
>
> OPRAH:
> Well, I understand that the chicken is having problems,
> which is why he wants to cross this road so bad. So instead
> of having the chicken learn from his mistakes and take
> falls, which is a part of life, I'm going to give this
> chicken a car so that he can just drive across the road and
> not live his life like the rest of the chickens.
>
> GEORGE W. BUSH:
> We don't really care why the chicken crossed the road.
> We just want to know if the chicken is on our side of the
> road, or not. The chicken is either against us, or for us.
> There is no middle ground here.
>
> COLIN POWELL:
> Now to the left of the screen, you can clearly see the
> satellite image of the chicken crossing the road...
>
> ANDERSON COOPER - CNN:
> We have reason to believe there is a chicken, but we have
> not yet been allowed to have access to the other side of the
> road.
>
> JOHN KERRY:
> Although I voted to let the chicken cross the road, I am
> now against it! It was the wrong road to cross, and I was
> misled about the chicken's intentions. I am not for it
> now, and will remain against it.
>
> NANCY GRACE:
> That chicken crossed the road because he's GUILTY! You
> can see it in his eyes and the way he walks.
>
> PAT BUCHANAN:
> To steal the job of a decent, hardworking American.
>
> MARTHA STEWART:
> No one called me to warn me which way that chicken was
> going. I had a standing order at the Farmer's Market to
> sell my eggs when the price dropped to a certain level. No
> little bird gave me any insider information.
>
> DR SEUSS:
> Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a
> toad? Yes, the chicken crossed the road, but why it crossed
> I've not been told.
>
> ERNEST HEMINGWAY:
> To die in the rain. Alone.
>
> JERRY FALWELL:
> Because the chicken was gay! Can't you people see the
> plain truth?' That's why they call it the 'other
> side.' Yes, my friends, that chicken is gay. And if you
> eat that chicken, you will become gay too. I say we boycott
> all chickens until we sort out this abomination that the
> liberal media white washes with seemingly harmless phrases
> like 'the other side. hat chicken should not be crossing
> the road It's as plain and as simple as that.
>
> GRANDPA:
> In my day we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the
> road. Somebody told us the chicken crossed the road, and
> that was good enough.
>
> BARBARA WALTERS:
> Isn't that interesting? In a few moments, we will be
> listening to the chicken tell, for the first time, the heart
> warming story of how it experienced a serious case of
> molting, and went on to accomplish its life- long dream of
> crossing the road.
>
> JOHN LENNON:
> Imagine all the chickens in the world crossing roads
> together, in peace.
>
> BILL GATES:
> I have just released eChicken2008, which will not only
> cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important
> documents, and balance your check book. Internet Explorer is
> an integral part of the Chicken. This new platform is much
> more stable and will never cra...#@&&^(C% .........
> reboot.
>
> ALBERT EINSTEIN:
> Did the chicken really cross the road, or did the road move
> beneath the chicken?
>
> BILL CLINTON:
> I did not cross the road with THAT chicken. What is your
> definition of chicken?
>
> AL GORE:
> I invented the chicken!
>
> COLONEL SANDERS:
> Did I miss one?
>
> DICK CHENEY:
> Where's my gun?
>
> AL SHARPTON:
> Why are all the chickens white? We need some black
> chickens.

I tend to write blogs in the morning simply to get my mind engaged so I don't go back to sleep. Particularly when I've only slept for three hours. Given that I am once again debating whether or not to try Yahoo! personals, I think it is only fair to take a look at some of the great moments in my dabblings with online dating.

First profile...I dive in completely, listing all sorts of information such as exactly where I work, pictures of me and my boogs (just being upfront), blah blah blah. Profile is searchable so it shows up when dudes run a search. Yay me! I think, I'm just about as cool as shredded cheese.

Takes about 28 hours before people who are 50, 60+ years old are sending me emails, wanting to know if I would be interested in meeting and possibly discussing setting a date for marriage. Clearly listed in my profile is the fact that I am seeking dudes between 25 and 30 (I likes 'em younger). Also clearly explained is that I simply want to meet people, have someone with whom I can get to know and spend time, that I am seperated but not finalized as far as divorce goes.

Then I notice one man from Big Rapids is looking at my profile three times a day. I start to see him sitting at the coffee shop tables, doing homework and reading. He never gets a hold of my on Yahoo, but he comes by the coffee shop a few times a day. I send him a message saying either you are really shy, or you are a stalker. Either talk to me or stay away, but I'm uncomfortable with the way you are acting. I delete profile.

Take #2. I create another profile, this time leaving out sensitive personal info. No pics of the kids, although I do list that I have children part time. A fellow we'll call Jared decides to get in touch with me. Nice guy, works a lot, good good. We talk on the phone a bit, set up a date, all is going along swimmingly.

I abhor lying. Living with a pathological one for a long time does that. I asked him at one point if he had a myspace, and he said no, he didn't mess around with that stuff. Fine. Two days before I was to meet him in person, I find his myspace page. Where he all but advertises himself as central Michigan's premiere Weed destination (I'd also told him I will not mess with people who are into pot). I send him an email, telling him about the misrepresentations I'd caught him in, and told him to not contact me again. Its been a year and so far he has not. When will people learn....I have taken extensive training in search engine optimization....if there is something out there, I WILL find it. Sheesh. Delete profile, swearing to never bother with it again.

I didn't, until I was sent an email with Eric's (ex-bf) profile. In order to get in touch with him, I had to create a profile (bastards). So I did, noting that there is indeed a feature that allows me to 'hide' mine from searches and remain hidden until I contact someone. I like that much better; I'll pick you, thanks, and take myself off the 'Barbie on the Shelf' thing. I emailed him, he emailed back, we met in person and dated for six months. Circumstances beyond our control (and my desire to remain a person that does not cheat) led to our parting ways, but the experience with him was relatively positive and I was able to learn a few of the finer points of internet dating, such as:

1. Hide my profile. I seriously get creeped out at the thought of other people in whom I have no interest reading my information. Same as in the real world. If I am not interested in someone, because of his personality, demeanor, or actions, I get very uncomfortable if he makes overt advances on me. I like to be the one to give people permission to approach me (wierd as it sounds, it is totally true.) Letting people I am interested in see my profile, and no one else, cuts down on that anxiety a bit.

2. Be as honest as possible. I tell people upfront I have kids, I'm divorced, that I was married 12 years of my 31, that I can not have any more kids, that one of my kids is differently abled, that I get along swimmingly with my ex husband, and that I really have no tolerance of the Republican Party. This saves my time as well as other peoples. I see no reason to do aimless flirting if the end result is going to be on the first or second date some dude going 'oh, but I want to have kids someday' or he says 'I have a life size cutout of GWB to which I bow.' Neither scenario is going to work out in the long run for either of us, and time is precious these days.

3. Apologize profusely for the lack of photogenicness. I use the 'caption' button to say things like 'my nose REALLY isn't this big', or 'I was being a complete dork when I took this'. I seriously can not take a good shot to save my life, and until Ashleigh the wonder soon to be sister in law has more than two hours of free time, I have to take my own pictures.

That isn't to say I haven't had some good experiences, too. Meeting Eric was one. Another was finding a profile that literally had me in tears because it was so funny. I emailed him just to say 'omg, you are hilarious!' and we struck up a myspace friendship because we're both recently divorced, and amuse each other. He lives too far away to pursue anything (we both think that) but finding people with similar outlooks and going through similar things is always nice. His name is Eric, too. When my profile was public I would get emails from random guys, saying 'hey I thought you had a good profile. I want to wish you luck in life, and even though I don't think we'd be a good match reading yours brought a smile to my face and I wanted you to know that'. Maybe they were b.s.ing me, but little things like that make me happy.

So, as I contemplate and ponder whether or not it is time for me to once again fire up the old profile, I wonder what this next round will bring. I know one thing...I'm defintately fitting my email address in somehow, because if yahoo thinks I'm going to pay them $25 a month to talk to people, they have another think coming (I'm thinking myemail at g mail dot com). Take that, you dastardly javascript and/or CGI programming!

and that peace will end soon. In 41 minutes, to be exact. Baby Daddy time officially expires then, and I shall load my wee ones up and bring them home, so the house trashing can commence.

I'm almost relieved; I've been bored all day with nothing to do.

I spent a goodly portion of Friday evening through Saturday morning sleeping. 17 hours straight, to be exact. I cleaned everything here twice and did laundry. All of it. Even the blankies in the closet for the company we don't have. Last night I sat here, debating on heading to one of the meat markets here in town to try and play pool, then decided I really wasn't in the mood to get hit on. Or be told how to hold a cue stick.

I did not foresee the forces of loneliness hitting me so hard when I moved to Big Rapids. I'm only 10 miles from Reed City, where my BFF's live. But gas is up, work is to be done, and school is back in session. With the absence of my coffee partner and fellow working/schooling/momming/ mom, there aren't many others with whom I hang. Oh, I talk to people daily far and near, via the Internet (yay, Al Gore! Lets write him in!), but it isn't the same. Being a divorced mom of three smallish people in a town full of swinging singles and responsibility phobes doesn't leave much for a fulfilling social life.

Which isn't to say I completely sat here, playing my tiny violin all weekend. I didn't. Took the chi for a walk around the river, helped Dad tidy up a bit and ran some errands with him. But, when that was all set and done and the football game started, I came back to the quiet. I am coming to grips with solitude all over again, it seems; I forgot that for most of 'my weekends' this year I've had some other partner (or partner in crime) to help me blow through the quiet weekends.

I am trying to use this whole 'lonely' experience as a simulated situation....suppose I were in Idaho, or Washington State? Suppose I am in a completely new environment, where I MUST start over? What would I do? I have thought a lot lately about pulling up stakes once I know what the limitations are on me; is this something I can handle, how would I go about it? It seems odd to have that mentality here, since I've been hanging out in this town for a goodly part of 20 years, but I have to look at it as a new experience.

Once I find a job, it won't be so daunting. I have too much time on my hands. I have too much energy that isn't getting burned, both mentally and physically. I'm coming to grips with truths that I really don't want to, but must. Three days straight of rain and quiet have not helped.

Okay, so now I'm down to 30 minutes quiet time. Methinks some microwaved chinese food is in order; they can't stand the smell of it, and I have a teriyaki chicken calling my name!!

I generally try to keep my blogs upbeat in nature, to amuse and lighten the mood of the at least two righteous chicas who peruse my musings.

Today, though, there are no attitudes of folly around these parts; I am a Debby downer today. A mundane Maude have I been for a goodly portion of the evening. There are many factors contributing to it, but as per usual, when all is said and done I will have to admit I am feeling this way, well, because I want to. Meh.

Perhaps it is the hex of hormones, for one to just not be in a chipper mood. I turned in the paperwork to be the lunch lady. Since I delivered it in person, I plan on stopping by next Monday to see what is going on with it. Perhaps Drop off another letter, asking WTF (why, not what) they haven't hired me yet?!

I got my application underway to DeVry, and according to their own standards for acceptance of transfer students, I should be accepted. Yes, I flunked quite a few courses, but my GPA from baker is still 2.7 (yes, I am probably the only person in the history of Baker to have President's list honors on the same transcript with failures. I'm a rebel; a loner.) Looks as if DeVry starts up again October 27, and the academic advisor is pretty confident that we can line the ducks up by then.

My daughter rode the bus today, and "LOVED it". I knew she would. For all her whining, pining, and sobbing, she is a big girl with a desire to be as cool and big as her brother. I was a little scared letting them walk to the bus stop themselves (its about 150 feet away, on the sidewalk next to the apartment), but they assured me they would not play in traffic, throw each other into the street, or do anything else to hurt themselves. So out the door they went, and came back in safe and sound at 4p.m.

So, why, despite all the goodness and looking up-ness am I still a funky Frannie? I have a few ideas on the matter, but I really care to not discuss them. Suffice to say a friend and I have deemed today 'idiot man day', and we are working on a plan to open "anti-rage workout centers" for women, where they can come and listen to loud metal/rock music while beating up punching bags. No men allowed, unless we hire them to serve the water. It will be like hooters...we'll only hire drooly good looking dudes, with their rippling chests, buns of steel, and backs of bliss (I have a thing for backs). She thinks I'm on to something.....

Well, this Tired Tessie is going to bed, where mayhaps she can dream about a Delicious Dennis, or about beating the crap out of a bastardish Brian.

Apparently, the good folks over at Michigan Works! (I still find that name ironic in a sense, given that we still have the highest unemployment, hence non-working, rate in the country) have jumped on the aggressive marketing bandwagon. Or, as I like to say, 'blowing sunshine up the ass' campaign. Here are a few of the more, inflated, job titles and descriptions I saw tonight:

"Professional Rental Unit Preparation Technician".... the professional preparation technician will be responsible for ensuring each unit in our for rent community is brought to our rigorous standards prior to a new occupant taking possession. Will be performing duties such as carpet, window and window treatment, lavatory, and food preparation area cleaning; resurfacing the walls and trim with paint, and performing any other improvements and/or necessary repairs.

Wow, for all that, they need a maintenance person. There was a '"Professional Rental Unit Preparation Technician" at Crossroads; He had two screws loose, was in love with Cricket, and had to work three other jobs to support his wife and daughter. Yep, for all those over-inflated, thesaurus laden descriptions, the position was minimum wage.

"Canine Sanitation Technician" The canine sanitation technician will ensure that the parks and recreation area of X county are kept clear of any canine excrement. Will also treat grassy areas with chemicals in an attempt to revive those areas affected by urine. This position requires a keen eye, the ability to walk, bend, lift, use tools for the removal of feces, possess a chauffer's license, and must pass a drug screen and background check.

Yup, pooper scooper. Also for minimum wage. At least this one is a full time position. I guess dogs that poo alot and lazy owners are pretty popular in that town (I forget where it was).

"Help Desk Technician" The help desk technician will provide technical support to the tech support team. Knowledge of MS operating systems, the ability to install and configure hardware and software, knowledge of databases, and attention to detail are required. This position requires a high school diploma and two years working experience with computers.

OK....you are going to bail out the help desk technicians when they are stumped. You are going to help the people that help your customers. Why don't you just cut them out, and hire the ones who are smart enough to do it the first time around?! This job pays between $15 and $18/hr, with no degree required....the same company has a web designer position listed, but that one takes a bachelor's degree and four years designing experience for consideration. I think this company is run by Bizarro......

Oh, and Alex, The Frosty Cup is one of Cadillac's Premiere Dining Destinations now =0)

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Tomorrow, I am going to turn in a resume/application/blood and urine samples to be considered for a 'food preparation technician' at a charter school here in br....thats right, kids, I want to be a lunch lady when I grow up. Seriously, though, it pays nine bucks an hour, 25 hours a week, and mirrors the kids' school schedule, so I won't have to worry about daycare at all. This tenure here in BR is a pit stop, nothing more, and therefore I don't really care anymore what I have to do while I'm here....I just have to do something! So, Alex, if Woodbridge Group calls asking about me, I have a mad work ethic and I was cleared of all charges in that exlax in the brownies incident ;0)

I have given Baker College Online the boot.

Actually, they sort of took the boot, tied it up and shoved it in a closet, and are holding it over my head. So, in retaliation and out of sheer spite, I went out and found a shinier, more popular version of the same boot.

I'm sure it will cost more, but that is not the point. That, my friends, is why deferments and forebearences exist.

Basically, Baker says I took too long to earn my degree. So, after two appeals denied, and with only seven courses (roughly 20 ish credits) left to complete, my option to finish with them is to pay out of pocket (my pockets are empty these days).

I've been in touch with DeVry University (online); they offer an associates in Web and Graphic Design. They would LOVE for me to transfer, and will give me as many credits as possible, so I can finish as fast as possible. Because they, like I, think its sort of bullshit that I qualify for aid, but Baker won't disperse it.

So, my new, improved, plan is to get the assoc. ASAP, then move up to a Bachelor's program in...wait for it.....Small Business Ownership/Entreprenuership. Figuring, of course, that I can land a decent designing job somewhere else, live smart for awhile while working on the BA, do research on options to get enough cash to start a business, then open my own swingingly groovy coffee shop somewhere.

Bam, pow, screw off, Baker, and you're '98% of our graduates are employed' bull. There is a new boot in town, and its called DeVry. Which is more highly accredited than you are, btw.

Hoping to be able to start in late October.

There is a common misconception that people who are capable of exhibiting strength of character means they are strong. Don't get me wrong; women are strong. Always have been, always will be. Raising eight kids during a depression? That takes strength. Watching the father of your children board a plan to go get shot at and keeping a stiff upper lip? Strong times five. Facing down a pit of rabid vipers and defending your plan to give universal health care? Strong to the 15th power. You get it...women and their strength have been the foundations of our societies since time began. Without their strength, we'd still be living in caves and using our appendices.

Physical strength is easy to ascertain; if one can lift, push, pull, or otherwise move a heavy object, it is said that he or she is 'strong'. By pounds, or kilos, or whatever sort of weight system is in place, we put a value on physical strength.

What about emotional strength? How is that measured? By dealing with crisis after crisis, by not giving up and hiding in the corner? By being able to function alone, in this mad world of ours, without a partner? Perhaps it is one of those gray areas in life, where it depends on the judge and his or her own ideas on the matter.

I grew up thinking I had a strong mother. Strong in the sense that nothing, and I mean NOTHING, could stop the woman. If something had to be done, it got done. If something needed to be moved, she moved it. If someone needed to be tossed aside for dragging her down, out they went. Completely independent, in terms of financially, emotionally, socially. Just her and three kids, constantly plowing through life. I have yet to this day see my mother cry. EVER.

I understand now that it was not necessarily a matter of inner strength; there was no one else. There can be no slack when no one is there to pick it up for you. No time for crying when no one will be there to hand you a tissue. Fall on your ass, and you are stuck there, for no one will be there at the ready to pull you back up. I reached a point where, like my mom, life became a great big game of trust...you know, where one falls backward and the other stands behind to catch them? Well, fall once and you come to realize...it hurts when you hit the ground.

Are people who rely on others for comfort and emotional support weaker than my mother, or me? No. Are people who go through life with someone by their side doing that because they have to? Some, perhaps, but a goodly number of people are coupled because they want to be. They have no less fortitude of soul than the next person.

By my old way of thinking, I am indeed a strong person. In fact, I've been called the Ice Queen (because when it comes to love and matters of emotional intimacy, I give off a cold shoulder), told I hate men because I give off a 'don't mess with me' vibe, and have literally injured myself because of my stubborn attitude toward admitting and seeking out help. That, I believe now, takes strength away from me. It is the strong who truly understand their limits, and will reach out to others when those limits are pushed. A strong person accepts herself, limitations and all, and opens herself up so that others can see the side that sometimes needs a hand to hold hers, or to squeeze a shoulder for encouragement. A strong person faces her fears, without abandon, rather than hiding behind the shell she shows the world.

I am weak in that I can not bring myself to drop this exterior of mine, out of fear. It has taken a lifetime for me to get to this point, where I can act completely nonchalant with someone, while wanting nothing more than to tell him I don't want him to exit my life. I can think of no scarier thought than giving someone the power to reject me. Line me up in front of a firing squad and I'll show them the birdies before they do their thing; just don't make me admit I need someone, heaven forbid.

I learned last week (on the wine laden impromptu camping trip) that Mr. Inc is indeed leaving Michigan most likely the minute he graduates. Therefore, he will not make any promises, or enter into any commitments that he can not be certain can be kept. The kicker....he thinks I'm 'a strong enough person to hear the truth'.

I'm sick of being strong.

I hate broccoli. It stems back to the early days of son the elder occupying the womb; in an attempt to ensure he had a fully functioning brain stem, I ate the crap daily. The nurse told me I had to, that broccoli aids in proper brain development for the fetus. So I noshed on the shite whenever i could...without dip.

Then, on one particularly warm June weekend, I forgot my lunchbag in the locker at work. Where there was broccoli left over. Where it sat until I came back to work on Monday. When I opened the locker, the stench was, shall we say, enough to send a first time, first trimester preggo chic heading for the porcelain throne.

And from that day on, the mere sight of a floret turns my stomach. I can't bring myself to touch it, and I usually refer to it as 'the most wretched of roughage'. The miracle for today, you see, was when I opened my steaming container of microwave beef pepper stir fry, there was only ONE clump of broccoli, sitting on top, allowing me to remove it all in one fell swoop. No contaminating the beef and the peppers and carrots and rice with its awefulness, at least not today.

Hallelujah!!

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I've also decided that Baker can kiss my derriere. I appealed AGAIN to be taken off academic suspension and have my financial aid reinstated; they denied me again. This time, I included medical documentation of the ex husband's bout with stage 3 cancer, as well as his treatment schedules showing how I was driving back and forth to Grand Rapids to get him there. I included statements showing the financial hardships we were enduring, as well as my own records documenting my nervous breakdown/borderline personality disorder (which had ALOT to do with my forgetting everything else in my life in the face of a catastrophe, whether real or imagined.) You get the point....my brother had told me that the more one writes and sends, the more likely she is to win the appeal. This was my second attempt, and again I was denied.

If I can cough up $600 to take one class and pay for it, I can get the financial aid back. Sadly, though, right now I can't get $60 saved, let alone $600 by October. I am tired of trying to explain myself to these people, tired of knowing that I qualify for aid to go to school, but because some oversight board thinks I'm taking too long, the last six classes I need are sort of un-takeable. Screw 'em, I says.

Right now, I'm looking into the University of Phoenix, to see if my credits will transfer. We go on quarters, not semesters, so it is up in the air. They have a few programs, paraprofessional for classrooms and legal assisting (maybe I could get the brother to open a practice and hire me). Ferris offers an Entrepreuner certificate program, that teaches one how to conceptualize a business, write a plan for it, seek out capital, yadda yadda. Working for myself would rock, and I would love to open a coffee shop somewhere cool, that serves Fair trade coffee and has comfy couches and isn't publicly traded. Oohh, but to daydream forever....

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The daughter is having major anxiety over a new school. I think things are catching up to her, or she's already inheriting my anxiety problems. She begged me (with tears, and hiccups, and clenched fists) to marry Daddy, so he can come live with us again when I tucked her in. I said I couldn't, which naturally means I'm just being a meanie. Usually in times like this, I fantasize about the day, when they are older, that they will be able to understand that it was not my fault for sending Daddy away, that he walked away of his own accord. I can't do anything about it now, children barely understand the concepts of love, and I don't want to poison their minds with too much information about the dastardly things adults do to each other, or the consequences thereof. By the end of the week my daughter will be ruling the new class, and she will have forgotten that she was afraid people will hate her, or steal her stuff, or see her underwear.

Don't laugh, that girl can be quite the exhibitionist.